Tevinter. The land of opportunity. The shining city on the hill that is the epitome of mage independence and accomplishment. Anders pushed through the crushing crowds, foraging ahead against the flow of the masses. All mage refugees, Apostates, rushing to have themselves auctioned off. Anders sneered at the ignorance. He'd been in the city longer than any of these that have fallen off the first truck they could hire to escape the Templars. Each one holding high hopes of being apprenticed to a Magister, eventually working their way to a better life at the top.
Anders accepted years ago that would never happen. Although mages ruled Tevinter, Apostates would be nothing more than lower class. He lived in a shelter that mainly catered to mutilated prostitutes that couldn't charge enough to afford better. The throng of people eventually thinned and Anders could actually see the filthy city streets. Not that they were blemished with litter, quite the opposite, Apostates turned 'servant' kept the city in pristine condition. A beautiful veneer for the corrupt system that ruled the land. He looked back over his shoulder, the sun beginning to peek through the towering forest of buildings and spires.
He shook his head in dismay, fools.
They would sign on to be a 'servant' releasable once the debt to their 'employer' was paid. Anders never once met a person who'd been able to pay off their debt. Anders had been fortunate to have met with a disenchanted Altus when he first arrived in Tevinter, otherwise he would have been in a similar prison.
Fourteen months ago the Altus had been drunk and gaming with friends in a bar. Having freshly arrived in Tevinter, Anders was eager and excited at the thought of being in an actual city. A far cry from the small townships of the Anderfels.
Like the country bumpkin he was, Anders had wondered through the bar wide-eyed and unknowingly making himself an easy target.
"Oh-ho boys! Look at this fair-haired wonder!" Anders was suddenly surrounded by young men, near his age, but their dark skin claimed them native Tevinters. One man with a perfect face and lavishly styled hair pressed a wide hand over Anders chest appreciatively, his thumb finding and playing with Anders' nipple. "Are you looking for some entertainment? I know I am."
The man's friends laughed drunkenly and shoved Anders closer. The man was incredibly handsome, winning grey eyes and a perfect beauty mark at the corner of his right eye.
"I-I don't want to cause any trouble. I'm new and looking for work and…"
The group laughed again although, this time less jovially. If darkness had a sound, this was it. "You're in the wrong place, blondie."
A set of fingers pinched his ass. Anders jumped and when he spun around to confront the culprit, he found an arm wrapped around his chest which held a staff that hummed with magic. The crest of the staff was adorned with the twinging necks of three dragons. One of the serpentine heads was tapped lightly against Anders' cheek.
"You look like a good boy. Why don't you do as I say and come upstairs with me?"
Anders tried to protest but his words were drowned out by the gang's enthusiastic jibs. He was pushed and shoved to the point he was certain the men around him were all elbows. His only relief was when he fell to the floor of a room. The handsome man stood at the doorway and shooed away the small crowd with his gold ringed hand. "Don't wait up boys! These wild Apostates tend to have endless energy and I don't plan to waste a drop of it!"
Another wave of laughter and whistles were muted when the door shut. The bolt sliding home formed a lump in Anders' throat. He scrambled forward to curl against the wall. The mage was all confidence and power. Sex smoldered in his eyes as the corner of his mouth crept upward under his perfect moustache. The thin curls at the ends actually gave him a slight villainous look.
Crippling fear washed over Anders. He was only marginally learned in spirit healing and without a staff, he was defenseless against any mage that had an inkling about battle spells. "I'm sorry if I-I've offended, p-please take what little I have. It's not much."
The man stalked up to him then punched his stomach lightly with his staff. "Not very bright are you? You don't have a clue as the quarter you've stumbled into, do you?"
Anders shook his head, wincing at the way the sharp scales of the dragons' heads pricked through his thin clothes. At the response, the mage rolled his eyes as though Anders were the only one in all of Thedas who didn't know.
"I should have thought the finer clothes and gilded everything would have tipped off some backwoods peasant like yourself." With a practiced flourish, the mage pulled his staff away from Anders tender stomach and set it snuggly into the rack provided near the door. "You're in Magister territory. Had I not picked you up, the local guard would have. They like to keep the streets clean, you see."
"But I thought…"
Anders was swiftly cutoff by the man's melodic laugh. "What? That you would simply totter into another country and ~poof~ there'd be equitable treatment and a profession waiting for you on a silver platter?" The musical laughter punctuated Anders naiveté. Of course nothing was that easy. "Let me offer you some free advice, you're not likely to get it from anyone else: Don't attach yourself to a Magister and never accept favors. Favors tend to never have an exact price attached to them and if owed to you, they will fall short of any services provided."
The mage's nimble fingers began to work deftly at flicking open all the little buttons and buckles that were a part of his expensive robes. He took his time, meticulously placing each layer on the nearby desk instead of letting them crumple to the floor. Once the man bared his chest, Anders lost his breath.
Quirking a brow at the Apostate, the man queried, "You are attracted to me are you not?"
"I am." The words floated on an exhale, expressing his desire before his brain could register what he'd said.
The mage finished divesting himself of the clothing, threw himself on the bed and then folded his hands behind his head. His semi-hard cock lay deliciously over his abdomen. "Don't worry yourself, there's absolutely nothing the matter with you. I've yet to meet anyone that has found me less than irresistible."
Anders licked his lips at the sight. There was no doubting the man was desirable.
"Suck me off a bit first would you? I am a might drunk and that will help. Then we can move along to the fun stuff, yes?" The man's head fell back into the pillows as Anders crawled up on the bed and nestled himself between the mystery man's legs.
Walking along the city streets, Anders was bitter to recall that was the last time he'd slept in a proper bed. He'd never learned the man's name, as he left shortly after their third round night long ago, but Anders was thankful he'd had been paid for the room before leaving. He had taken the man's advice to heart and managed to avoid the typical traps set to take advantage of people in his position. Through begging and taking on debt, Anders had managed to work his way into the good opinion of a woman who worked for the Department of Education. If things went well today, he might have the chance to get the education and papers he needed to work in a proper clinic.
The sun rose higher, brightening the way ahead. Anders chided himself, he should have left earlier. Breaking into a sprint, his long legs carried him adroitly to a fountain at the edge of the Gilded Quarter. He had to hurry if he wasn't going to be caught. A decorative fountain was a better alternative to the polluted channel in low town. Slipping the bundle of clothing into the clean water, he hastened to remove as much of the grime and foul smells from the hostel that he could. His head bobbed up and down, constantly surveying his surroundings in search of the city guard. At the first sound of footfalls, he didn't take any chances and collected the soaking rags. Resuming his sprint, he returned to the less savory area of town, heading straight to a bakery. The baker's son had recently broken an arm and Anders had healed it in exchange for the end of day waste. Most days there wasn't any, but Anders never complained. Using the back door, he entered and hoped that the baker's wife would be around. She wasn't.
"It's not the day's end, boy." Each day the man's voice grew gruffer, informing Anders that their arrangement was nearing an end.
"I have an interview today, if I could Ser, may I use the ovens to dry my clothes?"
The large man gave a huff as he jerked a thumb towards the main ovens which were scalding hot. As Anders spread his garments out, he made a mental note that this was his last visit to the bakery. Just as the Altus had said, the 'favor' ran out quicker than a payment would have. He checked every seam, even licking his finger and working on a few more smudges while his clothes dried out.
Once the clock struck ten, Anders donned the moist clothing and used his fingers to comb his hair and tie it back with a rubber band he'd salvaged from a dumpster. The metal ovens were polished with great care by the baker's own Apostate servant. Anders checked his appearance, adjusting as best he could and grumbling a bit that he couldn't shave properly.
Well, this is as good as it's going to get. Maker have mercy on me.
The entire journey to the education office, Anders was careful not to bump into anyone. He couldn't afford his second-hand attire to look any worse than it already did. In the office he was disheartened to see that a large number of people had turned up for the same grant he wanted. There was even a large Qunari guard at the door that scanned each person's ID, verifying their right to be there. Undeterred, Anders held his head high and confidently accepted his packet, holding his panic at bay until he sat at his assigned desk and began to read through the exam.
A bell chimed to alert all prospects that the allotted time had expired. When Anders glanced at the clock he was shocked to realized he'd been there over eight hours. He was the last in line and noted an odd curiosity as he came closer to the front. Each person submitted their exam with an additional envelope. Anders flipped through the instructions to try and understand what he had missed, but found nothing. He was mildly relieved to see that the administrator at the window was his female acquaintance.
Anders felt his heart skip a beat when she took his papers and offered only a weak smile. "Did I miss something?"
The woman sighed as she read through the front page of his packet, his personal information. "Well, at least you're a mage and not some Soporatti. That might count for something. As for the rest, well…" She waved a hand absently to imply that it would take a miracle from the Maker for him to be among those chosen.
"I don't understand. What else could I have possibly done? I've paid my fees. I've accomplished the pre-requisite studies – on my own! I have no money left. How could I have done any better?" Hopelessness gripped his heart like a vice. He didn't expect much from this world, but he at least wanted the chance to earn a living, even if it were a poor one.
The elderly lady was not entirely unsympathetic. She reached a hand out to pat his. "I know hun, I know. That's why I didn't bother to mention the bribe."
"Bribe?"
"Yes. Those envelopes the others turned in, they're all cash bribes."
The woman called out to Anders as he blindly walked out of the building, mentally exhausted. He ignored her, lost in his own depression. Three steps out of the building the and clouds crackled, then burst into a torrential downpour. Anders glanced upward, letting the fat drops explode over his face for a few moments before he righted himself and began the long walk back to the slums of the city. Soaked through within seconds, he didn't rush the journey, which proved to be a safe choice. The right shoe sloshed heavy with water for about a block before the seams gave out. Anders didn't even bother to curse the misfortune. He simply removed the remnants from his foot and deposited the scraps in a nearby trashcan, afraid of receiving a ticket for littering.
The next block was accomplished with a lopsided gait until he crashed into a mass of muscle. Having been lost to his own thoughts, Anders fell back to land on his ass. Glaring down at him was the guard from the education office holding an oversized black umbrella. The large horns jutting out from his head were probably the cause for the large accessory since they sprawled out past his shoulders like a bull. The Qunari was missing an eye and had white scars that cut across his grey skin. Clearly someone you don't fuck with.
"My apologies Ser. I was clearly in the wrong. Forgive me, Ser." Anders had groveled enough in this wretched country to have found the perfect apology that almost always got him out of trouble.
Tonight, it didn't work. He saw a hand shoot toward him and he flinched.
"Jumpy little shit aren't you? Get off your ass by yourself if you don't want any help." He crossed his arms and waited for Anders to collect himself. "Anders from the Anderfels right? Drew the short straw on names huh?"
Briefly, Anders contemplated running, but decided against it, certain the man would be able to easy chase him down. Maker's breath, what if he sat on him? No, best not to piss off the large Qunari who was missing a fucking eye.
"You do drugs?"
"Is this about the exam?" Now that he wasn't walking, the cold started to whip through his thin clothes and dig into his skin. Shivering, he hunched as he rubbed at his arms. "I don't understand."
"Just answer the questions so you can get out of this freezing piss. You do drugs?"
"No." His hair had come undone and was sticking to his face. Water dripped from his nose.
"You ever make any enemies with the Crows? Any of the lesser gangs for protection?"
"Maker no!"
The man's one eye landed on Anders' bare foot, two toes poked through the tattered sock. "You made it this long with no protection, huh?" He then poked a finger in Anders' chest. "You wouldn't lie to me would ya?"
Anders was slowly ticking off his developing symptoms from the checklist for hyperthermia. He needed to get out of this cold rain and fast. He shoved the man's hand back at him. "Of course I wouldn't! I don't need protection from the helpless! You haven't seen the desperation in the slums as I have! I provide needed care they wouldn't get otherwise!"
The guard barked with laughter. "You got fire, I'll give ya that." He pulled a card from his pocket. "My boss' boy needs a roommate - smart, clean and not from any of the noble families. Wants to avoid drama. You interested, show up to that address the day before the term starts so you can move in."
Anders looked down at the laminated card. Plain white, simple black font, sans serif. It had to be a joke. When he looked up again, the hulking Qunari was gone. A gust of wind pelted him with a fresh wave of icy rain and Anders had no choice but to make a run for his pitiful refuge three miles away.
There wasn't heat in the building since Tevinter was usually unbearably hot, so he huddled in a corner while staring at the little card.
What if he didn't get the grant? What if this roommate turned out to be a nightmare?
A loud crash jolted Anders from his thoughts and he heard the familiar shouting of one of the prostitutes being robbed. Fighting broke out and Anders rubbed at his forehead, waiting for the headache to form. Another set of voices continued their rhythmic grunts in another room, uncaring of the plight just beyond their door. Across the hall from him was a shabby, burnt out old Templar tying off his arm to inject a dose of lyrium.
Whoever this guy is, living with him can't be as bad as this.